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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24355189">don't pin it all on me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/intimatopia/pseuds/intimatopia'>intimatopia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Light Angst, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Yuri Plisetsky is a mess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:15:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,444</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24355189</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/intimatopia/pseuds/intimatopia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuri can predict a heat, but he can’t predict the way he falls for Katsuki Yuuri. It happens too fast — one moment he’s casting cold judgement on Viktor’s puppy crush on this sugary plump alpha, the next he’s whimpering Yuuri’s name in the middle of a heat, rolling over to press his face into the pillow and thinking <i>shitshitshit</i> while his skin burns with longing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov/Yuri Plisetsky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>182</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Heat Fic Summer 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>don't pin it all on me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/WretchedArtifact/gifts">WretchedArtifact</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I hope you enjoy this!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yuri has all the signs of an oncoming heat documented in his mind. He hasn’t missed one since the first. He knows the way his hands begin to shake at the sight of an alpha. He knows the way his knees feel weaker in the week leading in, and how the treachery of his biology makes him want to drop himself to his knees in front of anyone that’ll have him and beg. He hates it so much it grinds his teeth but he also keeps track of it, too paranoid to let any control slip out of his grasp.</p><p>The other thing about a heat is this: when it’s just him, him and Viktor in Russia in the cold where they’re safe and insulated, it doesn’t quite matter. It doesn’t <em>have </em>to matter. Viktor is an omega, and too soft to ever hurt Yuri.</p><p>Soft enough not to hurt him, even with all his sharp silver edges. There’s the blazing brilliant skater everyone else sees, and then there’s the way he bends over Yuri on the rink when it’s just the two of them and probes cool fingers at whatever new bruise Yuri has acquired and then says “get up, try again,” calm and sweet enough to temper all of Yuri’s burning bitter rage.</p><p>Rage at the world for taking away his parents, rage at his body for being what it is, rage at himself for never being quite good enough.</p><p>“Try again,” Viktor tells him, quiet and cold.</p><p>Yuri tries. He tries until he breaks and then keeps trying.</p><p>At home, in the flat near the rink he lives in alone because his grandfather lives halfway across the city and cab rides are expensive, Yuri shakes apart. It’s a weakness he wouldn’t indulge in front of Viktor, who for all his biology has probably never choked himself on his own tears in the bathtub.</p><p>No, that’s just Yuri. Weak and needy, not really convinced of anything but his own destiny. Most days, not even that.</p><p>The warning signs he’ll come to rely on in later heats are missing in that first one. There’s no alpha nearby to crumble his resolve or flush his cheeks. There’s Mila, as beta as they come. He feels sick, mainly, and ignores it in favour of skating alone when Viktor isn’t around so he can land that quad when he’s there again.</p><p>Instead what happens is this: he finishes up at the rink, and goes to the locker room to clean up. He comes out of the shower feeling restless, wanting to fling himself into the ice just for the way it’ll push back. As he puts on his clothes he feels an itch on the back of his thigh.</p><p>His fingers come away slick. He stares at them, confused, sure he toweled himself dry thoroughly.</p><p>After that, time becomes a snarled mess. The next thing he remembers is calling Viktor in a blind panic, interrupting his dinner, begging to know what’s wrong. Viktor tells him to get dressed and stay put, and Yuri snaps that he’d never be stupid enough to go out like this alone anyway, what does Viktor think of him, the line goes dead and Yuri cries into his hands out of sheer frustration and because the panic clenching in his stomach feels too much like a heat and he doesn’t know what to do about that at all.</p><p>Viktor gathers him into a hug the second he arrives, and Yuri presses his face against the cool surface of Viktor’s windcheater and rides out the waves of panic.</p><p>In the end Viktor has to carry Yuri to his car.</p><p>Yuri remembers precious little of that heat, which he decides is a good thing. Viktor tells him, in that blithely shameless way of his, that mostly all Yuri did was cry and cling to Viktor.</p><p>“No sex?” Yuri asks anxiously. The last thing he needs is his professional relationship with Viktor being muddied by hormones.</p><p>“No sex,” Viktor confirms. He’s going through pictures of Makka on his phone in order to plot the week’s posts for Instagram. He’s a mastermind at social media, and Yuri finds himself fascinated and horrified in turns. He’d never plan his own online presence so thoroughly. But Viktor has his own sticky neuroses, his desire for an image he can manipulate and his inability to ever stick to one thing. “I don’t like omegas, anyway,” Viktor adds absently, like this is a thing that needs to be said.</p><p>Yuri stares him down. No further information is forthcoming, however, and eventually he leans down to strap in his skates and circle lazy laps around the rink.</p><p>He gets on suppressants for a few years, and then he manages on his own. Learns the tells of his body because not knowing is a death sentence. He doesn’t want to be caught out with strange alphas and no way home, and that’s awfully likely with a life like his.</p><p>And then there’s Yuuri.</p><p>Yuuri fucking Katsuki. Or maybe it’s Katsuki fucking Yuuri.</p><p>The first time Yuri meets him, Viktor is in the same room and Yuri is running his mouth before he can stop himself. “I thought Viktor didn’t like omegas,” he sneers.</p><p>Yuuri looks extremely confused and not in the least angry. “He doesn’t?” he says, voice lilting up at the end. “I’m not an omega — I mean — he doesn’t even <em>like </em>me, that would be so presumptuous —”</p><p>“There, there,” Viktor says soothingly, skating up behind Katsuki. He peers down at Yuri. “Oh!”</p><p>“I’m going to kill you, old man,” Yuri says flatly.</p><p>“Well, now,” Katsuki starts diplomatically.</p><p>Yuri hisses. “Stay out of this.”</p><p>Yuri can predict a heat, but he can’t predict the way he falls for Katsuki Yuuri. It happens too fast — one moment he’s casting cold judgement on Viktor’s puppy crush on this sugary plump alpha, the next he’s whimpering Yuuri’s name in the middle of a heat, rolling over to press his face into the pillow and thinking <em>shitshitshit</em> while his skin burns with longing.</p><p>Heats are never good, not without an alpha’s help, and while there’s plenty of people who wouldn’t mind fucking a figure skater there’s no one Yuri can trust with his body. He hates the expectation of it all, the way everyone thinks he’s getting fucked every month due to a quirk of biology. Mostly they’re an exercise in self-control, which is slightly ironic if Yuri wants to think about it. The way he’s never more restrained than when his body is doing its damnedest to make him let go. He’s contrary though, and fights back with teeth and nails, comes out of heats feverish and angry with bruises bitten into his forearms from not crying.</p><p>He won’t cry. He refuses to let himself slip that far.</p><p>Doesn’t mean he doesn’t have <em>nightmares,</em> actual <em>fucking nightmares</em>, about being caught in the middle of a competition on his heat and feeling the thick-heavy-inescapable scent of alphas closing in, nowhere to go and nowhere to run and all the effort put into maintaining his body an apparent lead-up to its irreparable destruction.</p><p>That’s dramatic, he knows when he’s awake. People survive horrible encounters with alphas all the time. Dream-logic doesn’t know that. The fear weighs his limbs at every competition. He goes back to the regimen of suppressants for as long as he’s in Japan and has a sickening miserable heat in Russia where he wails Yuuri’s name to the walls and cries at being abandoned by someone who never even promised to look out for him.</p><p>So it turns out Viktor’s puppy crushing worked. It worked like a <em>dream</em>, if the way Yuuri drifts after Viktor and protects him is any indication.</p><p>Jealousy hits Yuri like an unseen car.</p><p>He never realized how much he relied on Viktor being as fundamentally unappealing as a mate for his own sense of worth in the midst of <em>that </em>crisis. If <em>Viktor </em>could get where he was unclaimed, Yuri reasoned to himself, there was no reason to think <em>Yuri </em>couldn’t. Because Yuri had sworn to himself that he could do everything Viktor could do backwards and blindfolded, and so far he’d never broken that promise.</p><p>Here was the end of the reassurance. There would never be another alpha like Yuuri Katsuki. Certainly if there was one, they’d gravitate towards someone silvery and shiny like Viktor. Yuri’s fire was bitter and sputtering. No one would want him.</p><p>It was just — no one was supposed to <em>want </em>Viktor either. They were supposed to be in this <em>together.</em> And Viktor had left.</p><p>Viktor always left, though. Yuri should have come to that realization sooner.</p><p>He keeps skating.</p><p>Yuri isn’t humble enough to claim that the Gold is <em>unexpected.</em> It’s earned, rather, earned with every bruise on his ribs and every heat he’s spent alone and every missed chance at a normal life. He doesn’t regret it.</p><p><em>This </em>is the dream, after all. This is what he’s worked for. The culmination, the climax, the sting of victory in his chest better than anything he’s given up to get here.</p><p>The party afterwards is boring, too hot and too much, but he sticks to a corner and lets Otabek talk him into the occasional sip of something, mostly watches Viktor parade his prize (Yuuri, of course) around, though he sometimes swings by to show Yuri off to everyone as well. Yuri bears it with incredible patience, mellowed by illicit alcohol and the warm press of Viktor’s hand to his back.</p><p>At some point early in the morning he ends up by Yuuri, who gives him a gentle smile and pulls him closer with the effortlessness of someone too tipsy to overthink touch. Yuri, though he will never admit it later, squeaks.</p><p>“You did so well,” Katsuki mumbles into his ear, body hot draped into Yuri’s side. The praise shivers through Yuri, sinking champagne-colored in his stomach. “You’re going to beat us both one day.”</p><p>“I beat you already,” Yuri whispers, playful and flush with confidence. It’s unfamiliar — he knows arrogance like the back of his hand, but it’s another thing entirely to push against a sure thing and feel the firmness of it against him. Like falling on ice but so much better. He wants to fall into Yuuri but nuzzles at his shoulder instead, dragging the late-night-tired alpha scent of him in. There’s precious little threatening about Katsuki Yuuri; in him all that makes alphas untrustworthy and hateful is transmuted into pleasant and harmless quirks. “I can see why Viktor loves you,” he continued, and doesn’t realize he’s said something wrong until Yuuri freezes against him.</p><p>“Can you?” he asks, sounding cautious.</p><p>Yuri looks up, puzzled. “You’re — everything anyone could want,” he says. His words are slurring. “And on top of that you’re,” and here he feels the old grief and rage burn up inside him, flashing bitter through the next word. “<em>Nice</em>.”</p><p>He spits it out like a curse, but it’s his tragedy and not Yuuri’s. He tears himself away from Yuuri’s side, uncertain what just happened but sure he just ruined something vital, and crashes back into his hotel room.</p><p>Viktor finds him. “Yuri,” he’s saying, but he’s not talking to Yuri. Yuri is curled up under the sheets shaking, and everything in him hurts too badly to understand what’s going on anymore. It doesn’t feel like a heat. Heats are supposed to be <em>bad</em>, sticking sour in his throat and making his lungs ache with want. Right now he’s mostly confused, rather desperate, thrusting gracelessly against the bed and trying to remember how to fall asleep. “...Knew there was something off.”</p><p>“Off?” Yuri asks blearily. He doesn’t ask how Viktor got into his room. He’s just glad to see him, someone familiar and predictable.</p><p>Katsuki is also there, hovering over Viktor’s shoulder looking worried. He smiles carefully at Yuri.</p><p>“What’s going on,” Yuri asks. “What the fuck.”</p><p>Viktor looks agitated. It doesn’t sit well on his features. “You pushed yourself too hard,” he says crisply. “And you’re crashing now.” He sits down on the bed, putting a hand on Yuri’s back. “We could smell you down the hall, Yurio.”</p><p>“Don’t call me that,” Yuri says automatically. “<em>Smell</em> me?”</p><p>“Yuuri could, anyway,” Viktor continues. </p><p>Yuri shakes off his hand and sits up. His head hurts, but he finds himself leaning helplessly towards Yuuri, who comes forward to touch him carefully. Just a hand in his hair, sliding through the sweat-damp locks. Yuri whimpers.</p><p>“You smelled like need,” Yuuri confesses, sinking to his knees. Yuri stares down at him, confused. An alpha doesn’t belong on their knees, but Yuuri makes it look natural. Graceful. “Like you were calling for us.”</p><p>“You,” Viktor corrects. He looks frustrated.</p><p>“I don’t understand,” Yuri tries. But he’s tired and Katsuki is right there so he sways forward and presses their lips together. Katsuki meets him easily, the hand in his hair sliding down to cradle his jaw. His lips are soft. He kisses Yuri for what feels like forever, heat furling and unfurling through Yuri’s core.</p><p>He’s wet. He knows he’s wet, can feel the slick bursting inside him and making him greedy. His nipples ache, and he wants Yuuri inside him so badly it hurts. The emptiness hurts.</p><p>When Yuuri pulls away, panic curls through Yuri. “Stay,” he begs.</p><p>“I’m not going anywhere,” Katsuki promises. “Can Viktor stay too?”</p><p>They both look at Viktor, who looks uncharacteristically disheveled. “Does he want to?” Yuri asks.</p><p>“Does he?” Katsuki repeats, amused. It’s directed at Viktor and so gently said that even Yuri’s skin thrums with it. No wonder Viktor loves him, if he talks like that in bed. Yuri knows how anxious Viktor can get, and he looks so chastised right now just by the soft weight in Katsuki’s voice, and Yuri is starting to see the shape of the thing between them.</p><p>“You decide,” Viktor says sulkily.</p><p>“Stay,” Yuuri says at once. He brushes his free hand against Viktor’s body, and then Viktor is turning away to lock the door properly and Yuuri is climbing into the bed.</p><p>Yuri is still confused, but he decides it doesn’t matter so much when he can climb into Yuuri’s lap for a proper scenting. He’s never been scented by an alpha before, he realizes suddenly, his cock hard against Katsuki’s stomach. He couldn’t have predicted how glorious it feels, the dark smell of possession sinking into Yuri’s skin. His glands are sensitive in a way they’ve never been before, possibly because Katsuki is worrying at them with his teeth. “Harder,” Yuri mumbles, and Katsuki obligingly <em>bites </em>him.</p><p>A false claim, not a real one, but it thrills Yuri down to his core. He whines louder, thrusting his aching cock against Yuuri’s stomach and feeling the hard length of his against Yuri’s ass, wanting so much it’s hard to speak.</p><p>With heat slithering slick under his skin, it’s hard to not entrust himself to Yuuri’s gentle care. He doesn’t know how he comes to lose his clothes, just knows that he cries at the first press of Yuuri’s fingers against his wet hole. Yuuri’s murmuring soothing nonsense into his skin, and all Yuri can do about it is cling and whimper, too gone to do anything else.</p><p>Yuuri smells wonderful, his scent mingled inextricably with one Yuri recognizes as Viktor’s. And it’s one thing to be shaken by the scent of random alphas, another to be drowning in the scent of people Yuri has wanted for so long it’s become a part of him.</p><p>He’s grinding against Yuuri’s hand, pawing at his cock through his pants, and he still doesn’t know <em>why </em>his body saw fit to throw him into a heat right now but he’s glad if it gets him <em>this</em>. </p><p>And then Katsuki is pulling out his fingers, and Yuri whines low in his throat. Being empty is terrible, lurches him back into being younger and more alone, but Yuuri is already petting soothingly at his back. “Greedy kitten,” he laughs. Yuri makes a shamed noise and curls up, trusting for a few minutes.</p><p>“I’ve never,” he confesses haltingly, as Yuuri takes off his pants. “Before.”</p><p>“No one?” Yuuri asks. “<em>Yurio</em>.”</p><p>“No wonder,” Viktor says softly. “You’re dealing with so much, and your body just couldn’t take it anymore.”</p><p>“It’s taken it for long enough,” Yuri snaps, sulkily resentful of himself.</p><p>Yuuri pulls him closer again, hard cock distracting Yuri briefly from himself. “Precisely,” he murmurs. “Time to let yourself rest, my little tiger.”</p><p>That pulls a greedy whine from Yuri’s throat. Katsuki laughs softly, pushing him gently across the bed into Viktor’s arms. Viktor’s still dressed but his hair is plastered to his skin with sweat and he tugs Yuri in until he’s sprawling. “Be good for our alpha,” he tells Yuri, pressing a quick-hot kiss to Yuri’s forehead.</p><p>Yuri’s gasping with need again, just on the edge of bearable with their scent surrounding him and keeping him safe. But he still pleads into Viktor’s neck as Yuuri lines up behind him.</p><p>The first breach is terrifying, and then it’s just comforting. It feels <em>right,</em> every slippery inch sliding inside him. It’s almost wondrous to think that this is what binds him and Viktor to each other, that they’re fucked by the same man and love him enough to rival each other. In this, Yuri half-hopes he never comes out on top. It’s not a competition if Yuuri deserves all the love they’re capable of. If Viktor hears any of those thoughts he seems to agree, nosing under Yuri’s jaw and kissing his bruised scent glands.</p><p>Yuuri’s cock is pleasingly thick inside him, large and filling and <em>good,</em> so good Yuri never wants to do anything else. He scratches at Viktor’s chest and shoulders and cries out when Yuuri hits his prostate, and then unerringly on every thrust after that. He’s out of his mind on sex and pleasure, so full of it all that it leaves no room for worry or insecurity.</p><p>He drifts in the sweet fog in the little span of downtime he’s granted before his heat returns again, while Yuuri and Viktor discuss logistics and houses. He isn’t asked to participate until one of them pushes a straw between his lips.</p><p>“You’ll get dehydrated otherwise,” Yuuri tells his questioning look. Yuri sucks. It’s a slushie, peach-flavoured. He drinks down the whole thing in greedy gulps while Viktor strokes his back.</p><p>Somewhat unexpectedly, his heat breaks a few hours later. “It’ll be back in a week,” Viktor predicts darkly. He’s worried, which makes Yuri unhappy, and he uses the plausible deniability of post-hormonal wreckage to tug his fingers through Viktor’s silver hair and scratch his scalp until he relaxes a little.</p><p>“We’ll just have to be here when it does,” Yuuri says cheerfully. Yuri throws him another look, which he returns unrepentantly. “Did you think we’d fuck you and abandon you?”</p><p>“Basically?” Yuri admits, blushing. “Viktor always leaves, so I thought —”</p><p>“Hang on,” Viktor interrupts. “<em>What</em>?”</p><p>They stare at each other. Yuuri watches them for precisely two seconds before politely excusing himself, to call a cab or to shower or whatever.</p><p>Viktor kisses him the second Yuuri isn’t looking, hot and fierce and still so gentle that Yuri aches inside even as he kisses back with everything in him. “Weren’t we supposed to talk about something, old man?” he asks, but he’d really rather not. Viktor’s lips are soft and taste like the same lip balm Yuuri uses, which is probably the other way around now that Yuri thinks about it.</p><p>Apparently Viktor has reached the same conclusion. “Do you want to?” he says archly. Yuri glares. “That’s what I thought.”</p><p>Kissing turns to lazy grinding, Viktor on his back holding Yuri’s hips and Yuri’s hands clenched in Viktor’s hair. Stupid lovely hair. “You’re lucky you’re pretty,” Yuri mumbles, sliding his hands under Viktor’s two-day-old shirt to feel up the muscles of his stomach.</p><p>“You’re lucky my boyfriend likes you,” Viktor counters. The way he’s holding Yuri, half-desperate, belies that though.</p><p>Yuuri sighs loudly enough to be heard above their panting when he returns. “I’m guessing you boys didn’t talk about it,” he says dryly.</p><p>“We talked about your ass,” Viktor gasps. Yuri is biting at his scent glands, having discovered recently his ability to do that and busy testing how far he can get away with it. “And how great it is. And how much we like you.”</p><p>“Flattery will get you nowhere, dear,” Yuuri says firmly, but he’s laughing when Yuri finally looks up. “C’mon, I called us a cab.”</p>
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